If You've Ever Felt Your Dreams Crush Against Disappointment (Part 1)

I think it was hot. I sat on the porch swing watching my baby girl put two hands on the cement and one diaper butt into the air. She steadied herself in her newfound independence. One chunky-thighed leg in front of the other and she was wobble-walking towards me. 

Contentment was full in my heart. And then the phone rang.

I could hear it in Mike’s voice. Discouragement. Shame. “Amanda. I—um—I’ve been separated. I couldn’t pass the test.”

I can’t remember what I said. I probably offered some kind of encouragement, asked a few questions, told him we would get through it. I do remember what I did when I got off the phone. I wept.

Life had looked bright. A year prior my husband had lost his job and struggled to find steady work. And then he stumbled into law enforcement. He was one of seven chosen out of well over a hundred applicants to be put through police academy. He was paid, he had benefits, and he was doing well in his studies. It seemed like the pain of losing had found its purpose in this opportunity. Mike thought he had stumbled into his calling. And then, three weeks shy of graduation, he hit one too many cones on the emergency driving course. Just like that, he was out.

Before coming home, Mike drove himself to the men who had always encouraged him, always pointed him to God. There he heard these words: “Truth be told, Michael, I never saw you as a cop.”

Though those words were spoken as comfort, I think they crushed my husband.

I cried for Mike. For his dreams that felt lost. For how he must have felt like maybe he was less of a man for all the hard blows that seemed to keep him from a good job. I felt that deep hurt from so much hope dashed and that unshakable question word: Why? Why!? Oh God, Why?! I wept for how the future was so uncertain. I wept for the way our dreams of children and a home to raise them in seemed impossible.

Our dreams died that day.

A few years later, Mike was still talking about law enforcement. I told him to try one more time. I could sense the worry in him, worry that he would again fail. This time, he worked full-time while going to academy full-time. He was dad to two children, husband to this wife, full-time student and pest control expert. And somehow after over nine months of a crazy juggling act, he graduated at the top of his class. He received an award for perfect attendance. 

At the end of the ceremony, they read off one award--integrity befitting an officer--the recipient chosen by peers and instructors. When they said my husband’s name, I wept. Because there it was, what I always knew to be true, what Michael had doubted and questioned and struggled against-- yes, we see it, you are a man of character. You are fit to be a cop.

You’d think at some point it would have been smooth sailing, but sometimes our dreams are something we actively fight for, something we have to keep God’s promises stuck to… and we have to be crazy enough to believe He means what He promises, no matter the setbacks.

While Mike was in the hiring process, he was removed from his favorite department’s list for an integrity issue. He was discouraged, he wondered if he would ever realize this cop-dream, but instead of just letting it go and hoping another department would hire him, he challenged it. He submitted letters with his integrity award attached. He put on his nicest suit, pushed his tie to his neck, and met with the hiring captain. That captain gave him another chance.

If you read here you know, Mike's been working at that department for a year and a half. And, yep, it's the same department he worked at five years ago when his dreams felt crushed beyond hope.

I think of Ruth in the Bible. It's probably my favorite story.

Ruth—who must have dreamed of children, of a home full of love and of growing old with a husband—in one fell swoop, she loses her husband and everything she dreamed with him.

And then Ruth does something bold. Truth be told, I have no clue why she does it. She clings to this God she did not know and follows her mother-in-law back to Bethlehem… when she could have just started over. Perhaps, she knew she couldn’t go back, that you can never really go back, you can only move forward. Perhaps, she just wanted know this God--this God woven into the roots of her husband and his people.

Whatever the reason, Ruth arrives in Bethlehem—which means house of bread—as sickle met barley stalk. She goes to Boaz’s field to glean the grain dropped in the harvest, and there she finds favor. At Naomi’s encouragement, Ruth goes into the threshing floor on the night of the winnowing, when barley had been crushed and then raised into the air so chaff and kernel could separate. Ruth lay herself at the feet of Boaz.

Ruth—of crushed dreams—lying on the threshing floor.

And Boaz—he raises her up and promises to see her redeemed.

As I sit in a house that I never thought we could have and send my husband off to a job he never thought he could have, I marvel at this God we serve.

We serve a God who, when hope was all but lost, raised His Son from the dead. A God who saw Ruth and redeemed her brokenness. A God who lifted her up, breathed life into her long dead dreams, redeemed her long-passed husband’s name, and gave her a rich inheritance in Bethlehem.

God raises the dead to life.

The God who made the dormant seed to erupt from the dark confines of soil, knows how to resurrect dreams from disappointments. He can raise the dreams that seem impossible, the ones that maybe you are throwing your fist in the air crying at God over, the ones that sit in the pit of your stomach and leave a hole in your heart, the ones that make you ache.

He is the God of resurrection.

I don’t know what devastation you face. What dreams you are holding onto. What dreams have died. I am standing here heavy-hearted knowing there is someone who needs this message; knowing that as some of my dreams I dare not even commit to print lie waiting, I need this message too. I am reminding us that God is faithful. That sometimes dreams get crushed, but we serve a God who knows how to bring them back to life. I am standing here with you, brother or sister, praying for you, crazy enough to believe that God can and will redeem what seems lost.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

I think*** I will be back tomorrow (or Monday) with a continuation of this post, because I have so much more to say on this. But truth be told, we've just moved and we’ve had another major change happen in our life unexpectedly, so I can’t promise. You will love me anyways, right? And maybe keep us in your prayers? Thanks, friends.

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